Sunday, 3 December 2017

'A Young Man's Dreams'

This, my latest book, is now available on Kobo and Smashwords (for various e-readers). Eventually all of my books will be available on these sites.

A Young Man's Dream is something new for me - not a mystery. I originally had the idea many years ago when living in Florida and involved with Historic Preservation. This meant I had to do a lot of research and realised that a book about historic Florida was something I wanted to write. That's how it began but the more I wrote about Joseph Montgomery the more I decided that there was a lot more to this young man. So the book opens in Chicago in 1908 when he is a Theatrical Agent. Before the end of the Book he is living in New York, has a house in Florida and is involved in the development of the town.

This is Book 1 and I am currently working on Book 2, and have ideas for Book 3.

As they say - time to start reading Book 1!!!

Incidentally, it is also available on Amazon Kindle and in paperback. 

Thursday, 16 November 2017

A Day Out to London

The Shard
A few weeks ago I was tempted to take a day excursion to my old home town, London. (I now live on the coast in West Sussex).

On the coach I was seated with another lady who also used to live in the Capital. We were both astounded at some of the changes - old buildings gone, new lumps of concrete and glass, brick and stone and all seemingly within touching distance of one another In other corners old familiar junctions have disappeared. All pretty breathtaking.

So far as our trip was concerned - a bit of a disaster. Dull and wet weather and a coach driver who didn't seem to know the best route to take. Knowing the City of London as well as I do I was speechless when the coach didn't go across Blackfriars Bridge. Not even over the next one down river - Southwark Bridge, but onto London Bridge. As we were heading for the Tower of London which is approached by a road that passes under both of the latter bridges I began to wonder. Once across London Bridge, we turned left to drive back almost to Blackfriars Bridge. Another left turn down towards the river and yet another left turn to connect to the road for the Tower - under London Bridge!

City Hall, home of the Greater London Council
Opposite 'Traitors' Gate' at the Tower of London!

Of course the traffic was nose-to-tail and like a gigantic snail. We were supposed to leave dock at the Tower of London at midday. We arrived at about 12.30. The boat returned for us at 1.00 to collect a group of damp, cold and grumpy people. We boarded, seated ourselves at long tables and were served the most godawful looking meal I have ever seen - and as a world traveller I've seen some pretty awful ones. I went hungry.

We arrived back at the Tower of London at 4.00.  And had to hang around until 5.00 when we could board the coach.

A word of warning if you are planning to visit the Tower of London - coffee shops, eateries etc are GROSSLY over charging. Maybe a good idea to take your own picnic.

Security on the River Thames. 
There was one good thing about the boat trip - a good old-fashioned Londoners sing-song led by three people dressed as 'Pearlies' - as in Pearly Kings and Queen. Not sure whether or not they were genuine as I didn't have a chance to have a chat with them.

Don't think I will be going to London again - too many large buildings which I find claustrophobic, far too much traffic, noisy and full of pollution.

PS - I did take a few photos whilst waiting for the boat! 

Friday, 27 October 2017


Long time since I published a book and this one is very different from my crime novels. It is the first book in a saga series which is set mainly in the United States. Book 1 covers the late 19th century up to 1914. I have had to put it into the 'historic' category on Kindle as there isn't a 'period' one.

How did Jose Monte, son of acrobats, become Joseph Montgomery, Entrepreneur? It all began when a schoolteacher in the American Mid-West took pity on a young Spanish circus boy who could only speak a few words in English. Unfortunately he wasn't athletic and useless as an acrobat. The teacher gave him an education and returned him to his family. Then in 1908 he left his family to their touring and moved to Chicago to become a theatrical agent. 

The story moves from Chicago to New York and Florida and traces Joseph's meteoric success in the theatre and the development of a new city in Florida. 

It was published on Kindle on the 25th October and is already selling well.  I will shortly be working on a paperback version and will keep you posted.

Tuesday, 26 September 2017

Strictly Comes to Bognor

Really looking forward to Sunday afternoon - Ian Waite and Camilla Dallerup will be at the Alexandra Theatre here in Bognor.

As you will realise I am an avid fan of 'Strictly Come Dancing' and 'It Takes Two'. Dancing is in my blood. As a child it was the ballet and tap, then into my teens I learnt ballroom dancing. Unfortunately very few teenage boys wanted to dance so it was mostly us girls dancing together. In my 20s when living in south-east London I was fortunate enough to have lessons at the Frank and Peggy Spencer School of Dance. Unfortunately, I didn't live very long in that area.

Nowadays my ballroom dancing is restricted to cruises where I usually manage to get in quite a few dances with the dance instructor. I am glad to report that my dancing has vastly improved over the past few years.

But - would you believe! - I married a man who disapproved of dancing. Nope, the marriage didn't last that long. And I still don't know why I did it.

Roll on Sunday!

Tuesday, 12 September 2017

Model Murder - Chapter 1

Wish I was going downhill instead of up, the youth thought, panting heavily as he cycled towards Great Camden and home.  His parents weren’t going to be happy – polite way of putting it, he grimaced, sweat pouring down his fair face.  More like bloody mad at him for being late.  But he and his mate, Dave, had to finish the game, didn’t they?  You can’t leave it at the most exciting part. And it’s only six-thirty now.  He sighed – half-an-hour late!
What’s that? he thought as the road levelled out and he could see something lying in the road ahead of him.  As he came nearer he could see what it was. ‘Fucking Hell!  A body?’
He stopped and stood straddling his bike, his feet looking far too big for the spindly jeans clad legs - as if waiting for the legs to catch up growth wise.  It was a woman in a blue dress. ‘Miss?  Miss, are you alright?’  And he wondered why he’d asked when it was obvious she wasn’t.  It didn’t look as if she was breathing and he didn’t want to touch her.  Yuck! How would he find out if she was alive?
Panic subsided and he pulled out his phone to call the three nines.  Thank goodness it was just the one number. He was sure that if he’d had to find other numbers he would have screwed it up as his fingers were shaking and wet.
‘There’s a lady laying in the road.’
‘Is she alive?’
‘Don’t know.  Can’t see ‘er breathing.’
‘Have you checked?’
‘Don’t know ‘ow.  Look, I’m late getting ‘ome.  Mum and Dad’ll be mad.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Fourteen.  Why?’
‘You sound older.  Can you wait there until someone comes?’
‘Like the cops or someone?’
‘Exactly like the cops.  Where are you?’
‘On the road what comes up towards Great Camden, it turns off a turning off the A twenty-seven.  ‘Bout ten minutes by bike from the town.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Jezz Watson.’
‘Can you describe yourself?’
‘So they’ll recognise you.’

‘But I’m the only person ‘ere!’  And he switched off the phone.  No way did he want to waste the battery.  He kept looking around – anywhere but at the body.  The trees, the hedges, back the way he’d come.  And towards Great Camden and home. Then he heard the siren.  All blues and twos as the car approached fast.  He waved like mad to stop them. Be a bloody crime if they run over her, he thought.
Available on Kindle:

Friday, 8 September 2017

A Favourite Aunt - Into the new house.

In the 1960s it was still the norm for married women to stay at home to look after the house - and their husbands! I often wonder how many people suffered from some of Sylvia's experiences. Here is what happened after they had moved into their new house and Sylvia was really happy to be there.


On Monday morning, having seen Colin off to work, Sylvia danced through the rooms. 'My own home! This is mine! I love it!' Then washed up their breakfast things, made the bed and set about cleaning the place. Yes, the builders had had it cleaned but not very well.
One of the advantages of the minimalist look was that it didn't take long to wash the woodwork and floors downstairs. After lunch Sylvia gave herself a treat and opened up one of the boxes containing some of their wedding presents. This one contained glassware which she carefully washed, dried and put away. Well, as best she could. Tumblers went into the kitchen cupboard but a set of fruit bowls and some wine glasses of hers had to be left on a shelf in the living room until such time as Colin was prepared to buy the living room furniture.
When he arrived home in the evening and noticed the glassware he grumbled, 'You've started unpacking.'
'It has to be done so we can find things,' his wife pointed out.
'Yeah, but can't we do it at the weekends?' he asked sulkily.
'Gardens to be dug over?'
'But we can unpack in the evenings,' he pointed out, adding, 'As you aren't going to go out to work, you can start the digging during the day.'
'Tomorrow I have to walk over to Lingfield,' (about two miles away), 'to do some shopping and when I get back I need to do some baking. If I'm to keep up with the laundry I will have to do some washing and ironing each day. And on Friday I'll need to take the bus to East Grinstead to do the big shop. That's after the baker has been and I've paid him.' Okay so she'd kind of exaggerated a bit but she was entitled to some time to herself wasn't she? 'Anyway, we need to get everything unpacked for when the visitors start arriving. They will want to see their presents are in use.' Or something, she added to herself when she thought of some of the gifts. And wondered where the visitors would sit, bearing in mind that there were only four kitchen chairs.
And, of course, as soon as he came home from work and had changed from his work clothes into something more comfortable Colin expected dinner to be served. And on went the radio and, after cleaning up the dinner things, out came the pack of cards and Sylvia quickly discovered that Colin didn't like losing. She thanked her lucky stars that she was an expert at losing - lessons learned when playing board games with her young sister.
Wet Saturdays were usually spent traipsing around one or other of the two nearby towns. Not to spend money, just to pass the time. Colin didn't read or have any hobbies which was why, she realised, he hadn't allowed her to bring her piano to the house. Also, of course, he couldn't play the piano.
'It's old fashioned and won't fit in with our decor,' he had decreed.
As time passed she also discovered that so far as 'the arts' were concerned, he thought they were a waste of time - and money. Not that he included knitting and sewing as arts. They saved him money.

The next battle was driving lessons. Yes, she could buy bits and pieces in the village, but she had to walk into the next - and larger - village of Lingfield at least once a week for items she couldn't get from the village shop. She could also get a couple of books from the mobile library but that only visited the village once a week. And on Friday day she took the one-an-hour bus to East Grinstead. As an avid reader, when there she also had to go to the library which wasn't in the shopping centre. With several books and all of the shopping it was a heavy load. Admittedly, on some Saturdays Colin drove her into East Grinstead, but not to the library. What she did dread were the wet Saturdays when he couldn't get out into the garden so on said Saturdays he insisted mooching around the shops. Not one of Sylvia's favourite pastimes.
'You know, Colin, it would really help if I could drive. Even if I could only use the car on Saturdays. That would free you up to work in the garden.'
Her husband did not look happy. 'I don't mind taking you shopping on Saturdays. You know I enjoy going around the shops.'
Which, of course, was Sylvia's problem. She just wanted to get around the shops as quickly as possible. Not waste time.
And she discovered over time that she especially didn't enjoy shopping for clothes when he was around. He had very decided views. No sleeveless dresses or blouses and her skirts must cover her knees. And this was the era of the mini-skirts. She also had to be careful at the hairdressers to ensure that not too much was trimmed off. Her hair had to cover her ears.
She continued to try to persuade him. 'If you go to work by train, I could pick you up at the station in the evenings.' After all he could walk downhill to the station in the mornings. 'It would save us some money and I could do the shopping on Fridays, giving us both Saturday in the garden.' She played what she hoped would be her trump card.
He sighed. 'Alright. I'll start teaching you on Sunday.'
That wasn't what she had meant and it turned out to be a lesson she would never forget. With three pedals to choose from and a sprung loaded gear stick the Austin A40 was not the easiest car to learn on. Especially when the teacher kept saying 'Give it more.' More what?
Colin's idea of driving lessons was around the narrow country lanes full of curves and, as it was the weekend, busy with Sunday drivers out enjoying the countryside.

After nearly crashing into a bridge Sylvia gave up. But she wasn't defeated. He might not give her much money for housekeeping but she reckoned she could squeeze enough out of it for driving lessons.

Available on Kindle and in paperback.

Thursday, 3 August 2017

Women over 60 Going to Work!

Oh, calamity, women are going to have to work past the age of 60! I can hear the chorus of thousands of women who, like me, have had to do so. In fact, at the age of 79 I am still working.

Where do policitians and journalists get the idea that this is something new? 'Twas ever thus.

It wasn't until the mid-1980s that, when I was in my mid-40s, that I found a job that paid quite well for women. Mind you, it still wasn't the equivalent of men's salaries. Fortunately there was some overtime which I utilised very well. Some saved and some used on travel (when I made copious notes and took loads of photographs). By the mid-90s I had developed Repetitive Stress Injuries in my wrists, right arm and shoulder and lost my job. Did I get compensation? No way - I was working for a large City solicitors. They very generously gave me early retirement with a partial disability pension that didn't even pay the rent.

No chance of retirement for me. So I learned how to become a journalist and here is where the travel paid off. Yes, I was an internationally recognised journalist. Then tourism changed but by this time I had learned how to write novels. Which is why at 79 I am still able to work.

I am one of the lucky ones. Bearing in mind how diabolically low women's wages were for most of the 20th century, women weren't able to save for the future. This was especially hard for single women. No chance of buying their own homes so we are still renting. And rents these days are through the roof. I have to continue working because my State pension only pays my rent.

Instead of bemoaning the fact that in future women will have to work past the age of 60, we all think it is about time the Government did more to help the rest of us. Certainly past the age of 70 no one should have to work to supplement their income.